Telperiën Ar-Pharazon

An impossibility. He moved with such speed and strength that his huge form was a blur before her eyes. She had not even a moment to fully process what would then befall her. The last Dathomiri priestess. The last of her bloodline, cursed to die and live again until the Dark Lord freed her of her bondage. A dark lord that had long since left her far behind. What was she in the end? Another young mind corrupted by the addiction of power, lusting for its promises while the promise stayed ever a finger length out of reach? How was that her fate since she had been born? A flash of incomprehensible rage passed through her mind in a flash as she felt the lightsaber burn its way through her arms. It was unfair. It was an outrage. How could she loose to this? How could the heir of the great Ar-Pharazon and Qaela the Darkmother, loose to a wookiee apprentice fresh off the teat of its master? How with all she had sacrificed on the alter of power could she be left bereft of it when she needed it the most? As superheated plasma cut through bone and sinew she screamed in her anger. A roar of guttural rage. A roar that became a wail of despair as she fell to the ground at the feet of the Jedi Apprentice. Her eyes leaking forbidden tears as she confused in the desiccated grass. In the end they all had abandoned her. Her masters, her mother, her power. Gone like the tears that leaked down her dirty face into the dirt she had made barren as her heart.

Loyalty… She blinked, pausing for a moment as the audacity of his words crashed over her. The naivety, and utter delusion of them almost made her laugh had she not felt the pent up rage of the last decade show its face. Her thoughts dashing from wound to wound, finding the source of her pain and her anger. Stoking them into a rage. How many times had she proven herself loyal to various great Lords of the Sith? How many had she killed or possessed for the Spider? How many throats had she slit from ear to ear in the time of their grand crusade? But like everyone else in her life he too had turned to leave without a goodbye. When had loyalty ever paid off? All it had ever gotten her was a swift kick in the ribs. The Jedi would find that out soon enough. But her anger bubbled inside like a bile. Her voice was like gravel as she spoke, her hands which held the knife twitching with her rage. “They always betray you.” And without loyalty, she needed power to keep them in line. If she was powerful enough, then they would have never left. She would have stopped them. She would have held them close until all desire to leave had left them. And why would they want to leave her? There would be no reason. And she needed the power of the two Jedi. She needed to drink it from their blood. Only then could she be happy. With a yell she lept towards the Jedi Apprentice, her knife held before her like a spear. Her darkness would cover his light. It would consume it, it would corrupt it and she would finally have the power she so craved.

What happened when dread met one unafraid of the darkness? The resoluteness of the wookiee’s defence was so unexpected that the daughter of Ar-Pharazon nearly stumbled in her advance. A single drop of doubt began to trickle down from the nape of her neck, a worry that a sure prey was not the defenceless apprentice she had thought him to be. Other apprentices had fallen to bow and stone knife, but those had been in fear and crying as the jaws clamped onto their necks. How delicious the tears, how warm the blood. It still stained her hands, trembling fingers covered with mottled dried blood which now strayed to the cord around her neck. Grasping the totem that hung there, its crystalline form a blood red itself. Reflecting in the pale light of the lightsaber as she took another step forward. Her voice was the guttural growl of a beast. The predatory form of the nightsisters echoing in the tones of her rotting vocal chords. Blood too was there, leaking at the edges of her pretty mouth. Though dark and discoloured as the rotting flora at their feet. “You dare stand while your master falls? For what purpose?” Oh if only he would run. He must escape. The fear of the sprint, she would let him get a head start, it would make the blood all the more delicious when finally drank from his quivering corpse. The stone knife in her other hand quivered as she took another step forward, her spirit beginning to feed on the pain. The horrible pain of wound and poison. Of the death of the life all around them. That pain, that death, feeding the shadows that stretched out all around her. Approaching the light of Kerriwarr’s foolish stand. For what was bravery in the face of death?

Mother would be proud. She had no doubt of that. How could there be any doubt? She let the shattered bow drop from her numb hands. Letting the numb fingers work to bring life back to them. As for the bow, it had served for the years required. Much like this current body which had begun to succumb to the ancient curse. The curse that was now infecting the Jedi master and the very ground they all walked upon. She stepped out from the dying trees and walked slowly towards the speeder, a grin spreading across her face as she saw the womans struggles. There would be no running for either of them and she wanted that body. It still kept its youth, its lovely form. And what better face to wear than that of a Jedi Master?

Fingers, long callused by the whipping of hempen string, touched a long stalk of grain. The fingers reached down, running down until they caressed the bud of the root. From that root a dark stain appeared. A withering stain of black blood that began to creep from root to root. Stretching like some infected vessel until it spread from the patch of low trees towards the distant mono-cultural horizon. A curse, a gift, a revenge.

The large muscle groups on her back bunched painfully as she drew the longbow again, pulling the heavy black ash shaft up alongside her cheek and feeling the whisper of the feathers beside her ear. Aiming was more in the instinct built by long practice since childhood. And when she loosed the hemp cord, the ash shaft slapped into the throat of another refugee, carrying the two razor sharp blades of the broadhead up and through his neck and burying itself in the sidewall of the Nubian starship behind him. He pitched lazily forwards, his spinal column severed and bright red blood gushing into the fertile ground. She could almost taste the copper bite of the blood as it fountained into the grass. Telperien savored the hopeless fear in the blood as the ground of Kashyyyk greedily drank from her victim. Alas for that, but there would be more, and not all would be wasted upon the soil. The cord beneath her fingers sang again and another arrow cut the life from a refugee as the twin sabercats tore his wife in half mere feet from him. Perhaps their eyes met and whispered a message of love. But likely not, as their screams of agony gave little love at all beyond sobs of mercy. The remaining refugees tried to flee of course, but the mighty beast made himself known with a roar that shook the clearing and with a swipe of a claw crushed the last adult of the group into the loamy soil of kashyyyk. Now there were only the younger humans to hunt. And their fear tasted delicious on the wind.

She was deep in the forest now, letting the hunting instinct guide her as it had guided her people for generations. Slowly, the scent had begun to develop. Starting first as a brush of the force against her own presence. What strange and haunting specters played across her mind. A glimpse of strange innocence, a clearing and a campfire, fresh rations being added to boiling water. Laughing and joy. A ship being unloaded with camping and survival supplies. A final joy after being so long on the move. A delicious chance at an innocent prey. And a prey with certain material possessions that would work in Telperiën’s advantage. For a brief moment she thought of her Iridonian friend, and what she might have thought at such a pursuit. But the very thought made a prickle of anger crawl up her spine. A wave of spite and anger that gave her limbs a sudden lightness and doubled her speed as she followed the scent. Outpacing her two feline companions as she slipped the leather satchel off of her shoulder. The muddy ground made little sound as she ran through the deep woods, pausing to crouch at the edge of the natural clearing made by a decade old turbolaser blast. She took another breath, letting the scent filter across her tongue. Foreign smells. A faint perfume lingering with boiled noodles. Colonists perhaps? A look around the base of a giant wroshyr tree showed their sleek Nubian designed shuttle which reflected the shallow greens of the recovering forest from its mirror-like hull. Six human adults. Refugees from their various states of dress. Two teenagers and one child. They sat around their duraplast camp table, feasting on meager rations with not a care for the world around them. Whatever world or collections of worlds they had come from had not prepared them for what could be lurking in the growing shadows. There was a feast here for the taking, an easy meal for creatures so inclined. She let the idea in the force linger in the air as she sought an easy outlet for her anger and rage. Her two sabrecats beckoned to her call, their mouths growing frothy with anticipation. But something else on the edge of the forest also answered. Something ancient and whose soul had long ago been fully consumed by the needs of bloody predation. From her satchel she withdrew the long wooden staff of a longbow, placing one horn plated end against the bulk of a tree root and using the leverage to bend it far enough to string. Slipping the hempen cord over the rancor bone notch, before stooping to pull a wicked black feathered arrow from the bag. A broadhead of darksteel. Forged from the wreckage of the Galactic Alliance cruiser Tiberious, which had fallen to earth during the battle of Onderon. Tempered by Krath metallurgists into weapons for the servants of the Dark Lord himself. Imbued with the same hatred and malice that had forged the Sith Empire not a half a decade past. All in ruins now. And the very thought of such a failure made bile churn in her stomach. She took a calming breath and notched the wicked arrow, thinking for a moment of all those friends and masters that had died on their crusade for power. Those great Sith had failed, had died and were banished into eternal darkness, while these weak beings had survived to find a new life. What better prey to hunt than those that deserved it? The black feathered arrow flew free, embedding itself in the skull of one of the men in the clearing, right as he reached to take from the communal dish. Spilling bright red blood in a gush that covered half the table. How freeing the sight was as she surrendered herself to the bitter hunt. Her two sabercats rushing forth from their hiding places. Their cackling screams joining Telperiën’s own. But above it all, even the din of sudden battle and pumping blood, came the dark roar of an ancient malice.

Red eyes narrowed as blood dripped from churning jaws. The two great cats noisily fed on their prey as their mistress wiped the blood from her narrow set chin. It was strange to be alone again, even as such a friendship had blossomed it was already gone. Or at the very least put away in the cupboard, something to be looked at, to be admired, but not used. Standing in stasis as the galaxy spun itself into darkness. She reached into the carcass and placed a blood stained hand onto the no longer beating heart. She squeezed, letting her fingernails rip into aortic tissue and bright red blood spill forth. She pulled the quivering heart from the beast and looked into the cavities her fingers had left. Reading the twitching tissue like a R2 unit would read a starmap. But this was no good omen. And it read of despair and loathing, a churning galaxy and the death of heroes and villains. Of Friends and Enemies. She grimaced at the sign and let the heart fall away.

The nightsister’s gaze searched the heavy brush as she ran, her eyes seaking the fleeting form of the Jedi Knight. Telperien’s mind was racing as she sprinted through the close clinging mires, letting the force guide every step. Her speed fueled by a mix of sudden rage and delight. But why the sudden peak of imperius rage? Was it the burned remains of a civilization that they ran through? Was it the realization that everything her mother and father had striven for now lay in ruins? Was it rage at the Jedi knight for trying to teach her a lesson that she herself knew nothing about? Yes, that was the source of the sudden fire that pushed her steps. How did the jedi expect someone like her to control herself? How could she control herself if she had never once been told or shown how? What a privileged life Kadi must have lived. Did she not know that the only joy that had ever stirred the soul of the nightsister had been in the thrill of a hunt? There was a purpose. The hunt itself, the pleasure from it, the fellign of an innocent prey, the feral desire of the blood spilling upon the ground. Telperien could almost taste the fear in the air and it made her mouth water spectacularly. Oh to taste that blood!

The nightsister ran easily through the underbrush, her bare feet making little sound as she sprinted after the two sabercats and the Zabrak Jedi Knight. The flow of the force was so easy to tap into on the wookiee homeworld. The dark overhanging trees reminded her of Dathomir before it had been laid to ruin. And though it was slightly different, the undercurrent in the force of primal predators searching for their prey was delicious to tap into. No wonder the great furry humanoids loved their homeworld so, she could get lost in the darkness here. Revel in it, bathe and drink of it until it covered her from head to toe in its shadows. The swift and generous power offered by the nature of Kashyyyk enthralled her. So much so she nearly missed the directions Kadi yelled at her, so Telperien was forced to jump after her. Running up the side of a burned out wyshor tree, landing at the heels of the Zabrak jedi, and letting that energy flow through her and into her two sabercats. Driving their hunting instincts and hers into a frenzy.

With a wave of her hand the Nightsister pulled the naturally made shadows around her, deadening her form as she deadened the sound of her footfalls. Her bare feet making no noise as she sprinted after the Jedi Knight. She did not draw on the force to speed herself however, that would cheapen the hunt, the thrill that came from the long run and a sharp point of a spear. She could feel the thrill of it pulsing with her heartbeat. It was adrenaline in its purest form. A nightsister becoming the predator she had always believed herself to be. She ranged behind the Minstyngar as her sabrecats kept at its heels. Snapping with each attempt to bring the beast down. But the cats had long avoided their predatory nature, living in the slums of Naboo, eating what their master fed them. So, a push was needed. Her mind connected with them, and she urged them onwards, stirring their beastial emotions. Their desire to maim and kill. To eat and devour. And the sabercats obeyed, a froth forming at their lips as they prepared for the fatal strike…

Telperien lay back and likewise let her eyes follow the twisting and burnt branches, tracing them in their vain attempt to reach the most sunlight possible. Unconscious to the fact that their greed could smother the undergrowth a hundred meters below them. Was it natural that the young grass that tickled the back of her neck could only survive when the wroshyr trees above them were burned and carbonized by turbolaser fire? Was it natural when the Katarn hunters killed and ate a Kinrath? Were the short and brutal lives of predator and prey something that a Jedi Naturalist considered a good thing? A source for their power? So many questions, but the young grass felt good against the nape of her neck, and she let her mind wander. “We do not need to talk at all. I am no philosopher and no great debater.” The ears of the two sabercats perked up, and a low growl whispered deep in their throats. “Ah but it looks like we may have a hunt on our hands, Jedi. Will you come with us?” Telperien scrambled to her feet and held out a hand to the Jedi knight as the two cats looked at their master. Longing. She nodded and the two cats exploded into action. Bounding in great leaps after whatever prey they had caught the scent of. A very scared Minstyngar who was runnign as fast as its paws could carry it. The Hunt was on.

Telperien likewise sat, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her chin on top of them. She lifted a hand and pointed to the creatures in turn. Her thin finger pointed to one of the saber cats, who bore a thin white stripe from the muzzle to the tip of its long tail. Then to the one with a matching black stripe. “This is Hono, and Kai.” She waved the finger again and released the two cats from the subtle control she kept on them. They reacted instantly to the Jedi’s use of the force. Bounding up to the woman to give her gentle but persistent head butts until she petted them. They were animals originally bred for war in the ancient pre human era of Naboo. But they also deeply desired the loving contact of others. They were a little too human in that way. “I followed the force, hoping that it would lead me back to you.” The Jedi woman was an enigma, it was undoubted that Telperien was attracted to her, but she also found herself just desiring someone like Kadi to talk to. To ponder the meaning of this brutal and short life.

The two saber cats bared their stark white fangs, stepping in front of their mistress in a defensive crouch, the fur behind their ears furrowing and standing tall in some primordial gesture of menace. Nothing much to scar an Acklay and a full Jedi knight, but they were ready for the fight if it offered itself. Telperien waved her hand at the two felines and they calmed instantly, sitting and wrapping their spiked tails around their front paws, their stark yellow-grey eyes watching their mistress with fascination. “They belonged to this former body, they serve their purpose.” She ran her long finders through the fur at the base of Kai’s skull, causing him to pur, and the long pointed ears to twitch in pleasure. Telperien smiled softly and looked back up to Kadi. It was good to see her again, she was a beautiful specimen of a modern Iridonian Zabrak, horns that curved wonderfully up from the light tattooing around her forehead. It was an intriguing feeling to look at someone like her, a sworn enemy, and feel only the loneliness in her own heart. Not hate. Even the strange desire she had felt in their last combat did not stir itself in the pit of her belly. Only a stark and bleak loneliness. Telperien held out a hand towards the two saber cats, holding a scrap of meat that she had packed from their last stop. “It is good to see you... I trust you are well?”

But what was this light? This pure heart that beat so steadily in the face of total darkness? That calming rhythm that flickered at the edges of her consciousness? Her heartbeat was almost musical, every contraction of the aorta pushing blood through living tissues. Was it the heartbeat that brought her to this dismal world? A pretty face? Perhaps a promised end to a curse that had hounded her from death to death. The Heir of Ar-Pharazon did not know. Perhaps it was all of those things. She slowly stood as the shuttle settled into one of the burned out landing pads nestled in the husk of a great tree. The two sabre cats that had so faithfully served this bodies’ owner crowded around her feet, looking up with eager and fearful eyes. For they did not like this change, where one there had been laughter, only a brooding silence remained. It unsettled them. Her face was still there, but the light behind her eyes had changed. “Hono, Kai.” She whispered, reaching down to scratch behind the ears of the foremost cat. “All will be alright.” They did not believe her, but followed anyway. That was their duty. And perhaps if she found what she wanted on this strange grassless land, her smile would return.

The blood of a thousand generations of power flowed in the coursing veins of a walking corpse. The blood of great Ar-Pharazon and Nightsong mixed and mingled with every failing replication. Had the curse in the blood gotten worse since the Spider had withdrawn from the universe? Since his empire had fallen in a string of failed assaults. For the empire had fallen a long time ago, for an empire built around the character cult of a single man could not long survive his departure. Where were the legions? Where were the flocks of Sith Lords that had hounded the corridors of Onderon while victory was still so sweet? Like the ghosts they had faded at the first sight of defeat. Leaving their betters to hold the tattered banners as the fleets retreated from Corellia. And now those brave Sith that had remained were seeing the rise of the galaxy against them. A few systems had become a thousand, and the few sabers of the Jedi had become a storm of light. Yet here she was, one of the steadfast allies of the Spider, now running from the destiny she herself had invited. A destiny of ruin. A destiny of doom. A destiny of blood. A destiny foretold. In the deepness of her mind the prophetic words of a dying Jedi master thundered. Screamed as fire flickered under his pyre, through lips black and bloody. But she could not remember the words, even as she searched her memories of that long ago mission. A mission of knives and blades. Blood and a dead wolf. She let out a long sigh, for she could not remember. A flash of anger spilled like the tears that were dripping from the corners of her eyes. Tears of hopes broken asunder by her own choices.

Telperien could not help but feel a twinge of sadness at seeing the young man walk away. No, he was not walking, she thought to herself as she chewed on her lower lip. He had the stride of a dangerous man. The swagger of a Sith Lord. The stalk of a murderer. Had she done this? The Nightsister could not be sure, most of his brokenness had come from before. During his apprenticeship with Awenyyd. Was this her legacy then? A legacy of destruction? A legacy akin to her Fathers? What did Ar-Pharazon the Golden leave behind him but a stream of blood and the aftertaste of shattered worlds? She watched each of his heavy footfalls as Oni strode away, the taste of bile rising up in the back of her throat. Had the Spider not promised that this Empire would have been different? But all around her were the signs that nothing every truly changed. Her father had sunk cloud city with the deaths of millions. But here the scent of death was just as thick. The Dark Lord had led destruction to this regal city, and the Lords who argued bitterly about power in the throne room had slaughtered their own share. She gasped. As another feeling welled up in the pit of her stomach. Causing her two sabercats to growl menacingly and coil themselves protectively around her. What was it? Regret? She let her eyes flutter closed. Her mind seeking an answer and coming up with nothing but a feeling of dread. If she died right now, cut down by one of the Sith looking for leverage, she would have only left behind the legacy of destruction that her own ancestors had brought from the depth of the seven hells. The feeling was so strong, that she found herself reaching for her lightsaber, as if placing the emitter under her chin was a solution to her problems. A feline bite on her wrist stopped that move before she could complete it, and she let the handle fall to the scorched grass. She needed answers. And her blood knew where she could get them.

Telperiën looked her apprentice in the face, her amethyst eyes sizing him up. Looking for what weighed in his heart, for what desires lay open to a prying eye. Her thin hand traced the edges of his eyesocket, leaving a trail of blood. Her mouth moved in a soft incantation, the blood congealing and fading into the skin. A trail of sith runes, traced and etched in blood. Protection and doom written in the same hand. “You have learned all you can from me and my people. But still you have much to learn. Your darkness is untempered, and must be brought to a hone in the forge of experience.” She let her hand fall and stepped away. “Go and make a name for yourself. That is my command.” There was a trap in her command. This was a web of choices, and her apprentice would need to find his way through it without her.

Telperien ducked out of the meeting, her sisters marching after her. Their leathers and braids clashing awfully with the high granite ceilings of the royal palace. She gave a sideways look and clicked her tongue, her two animal guardians loping out of where they had been sitting to flank her on either side. Their long fangs making them even more fierce than they already were. So Shiro had returned and with him the rest of her Sisters. She reached out to him in the force as she sighted him with a Rancor beside him. She gave him a deep bow and then glanced to the Sisters, to whom seeing Telperien in a new body was not something new. “So you return. What news do you bring from Lehon?”

Telperien strode forward to match her adopted father’s motion. Her new bodies lithe form unknown to many in the room. But her presence in the force was familiar. She grinned happily and lifted her head. Exposing her neck to the Dark Lord. A sign of obedience unto death. “The Nightsisters will serve the throne, no matter the occupant.”

A part of her wished she had the political acumen and historical knowledge to identify who this man was. He seemed strong in the force, and she could tell that without having to delve into the void. It was visible with her own eyes, eyes that narrowed into slits of scarlet tinged purple. In the downfall of her master, she had reverted to what she had always been. The silent sentry on the gates of the Dark Lord. The souls that flitted like gnats around a light behind him gave him a rueful appearance, but not a familiar one. “I am the lesser child of greater fathers.” She bowed low, her hands gliding out on either side of her in a mimicry of the high Naboo court. “I have seen the great strides of this empire, and its stunning lows. I saw the Rebel fleet on fire over Onderon while its pilots and jedi were sacrificed in the blood red streets of Iziz, yet I also tasted the death of the Great Spider.“ But the empire had changed, its noontide had failed at Felucia. And this great man of power had come too late to save it. Telperien was sure, as she knew her adopted father was, that great empires relied on the cult of their leader. And for the spider to die away with little more than a whimper, had struck a blow that was nearly irrecoverable. The great lady would have to work without end to hold her power. For that was why the daughter of Ar-Pharazon stood here. If there was a threat, a silent stiletto and a flash of blood would end them.

This body was so different. Where before there had been taut muscle and strong bone, there was now willowy sinew and a superb sense of balance. Running was easy, bounding and leaping in great acrobatic displays even easier. This body was vigorous, hungry, and had long been accustomed to the high lines of fairs and circuses, when not begging for money in the gutters of Naboo. The two large cats roamed alongside her, taking their time to run among the trees, then the empty streets, before stopping with her near a Sith patrol. With the caution of an assassin, she let the force breeze by her, tasting it for what it would tell her. She kept herself hidden through it, preferring to walk without it in the presence of great kings of power. But nearby there was one such master, an unknown force, waiting at the doorway to the palace of the Queen of the Galaxy. Bidding Katharicos and Apsolon to stay behind. She walked towards the great master, whose presence she had never felt. Things had changed much since the Spider had left. “Master, what brings you through the long stars and mists to the halls of their queen?” Her voice was soft and kind, her appearance of a lowly slave, her outfit that of the Mirai. For this man was unknown to her and she had grown up with this Sith Empire. What great things had he done, what worlds had he enslaved? Or was he like her, a nothing. A failure. @Sith X

“Katharicos!” Pale grey eyes stared at the distant burning city of Theed. The fire was spreading, and the long ion trails in the sky showed at least some of the former ruling class had made it out alive. Spasted shame that. They deserved whatever doom the Sith Lords had brought them. There was a snapping sound from behind her and the young woman turned around. It was Katharicos, one of her two trained companions. She reached out a hand and stroked the short mane then let the beast eat in peace. In the distant fields her second companion stalked its prey, preferring to find its own meal than sharing Katharicos’s kill. Tusk Cats were curious like that. But Threnna didn’t mind. She was content enough in seeing the fires. Those damned paved streets would be broken, those damned guards with their ‘less than lethal.’ She hated all of them. For she was one of the Mirai. The Travelers of Naboo. Preferring to live the nomadic life in the peaceful and plentiful land. They were despised by the settlements, Gungan and Naboo alike. Shooed away from the popular tourist destinations with rod and gun. Forced to live miles away from any settlement, and still harassed. But now they burned. It was so delicious she could not help but to laugh. Laughter that spilled out over the silent plain. As families died in the ruins of their splendour. But for some reason this laughter caught in her throat. A growling filled her ears and a sudden weight pressed in on her. For in her mirth she had brought in the fallen. She had brought in the doom itself. A wandering soul. A demon. You take delight in their destruction? Yes. I can make you their doom. Really? Will you accept this contract of blood? She nodded. And the world went dark.

She shook her head, though the movement was an agony, as more black blood began to leak from her ears. Tracing down the soft white earlobes, to turn bright red hair an ugly congealed black. “You do not know us. Our suffering, It is all that we know.” Her voice seemed to finally falter. “We tried everything. Even the Spider himself could not free me. He said he could harness the power of the maw...” But like everything that had been a lie. She blinked, and coughed back the sudden rush of bile. She shook her head again, and her face twitched into a soft smile. It was strangely comfortable, “I have never had anyone cry for me…” She closed her sightless eyes, and relaxed into the embrace of death. One breath, then two. One slower than the last, until it finally stopped.

It was not so much the scoring pain of the lightsaber scoring through her back and into her vitals that caused the sudden upwelling of tears in her eyes as she lay face down in the muddy grass. It was the failure, the knowledge that there was only failure and the scorn that came with it. Were they tears of frustration? Yes, but not the futile rage of a tantrum, they were tears at the uselessness of it all. Why had she come here, why had she brought her people to die on this forgotten rock. To hunt down a jedi temple of people that did not wish her harm? They were not the scouring inferno of the Imperial Knights, they were not even the cause of the desolation on Dathomir. That had been her fathers doing. The relentless pounding of a fleet’s turbolasers. She blinked the tears away as she was hauled up. She could feel the burned organs screeching in pain, but that pain was only a relief from her raging mind. She tried to speak for a moment and winced as a dark rivulet of blood weeped down the side of her mouth. “Don’t call me…” She wrinkled her nose and managed a blood filled smile. “Darksong.” She nodded and pain radiated down her spine from where muscles burned and fired synapses into voids of bubbled flesh. "My name is Telperiën." She reached up her hand and grasped the kyber crystal that dangled from a cord at her neck. It was a pale red, dug from the rusted ruins of Chu'unthor in the deep dathomiri wilds. It was the womans to take, should she desire it. A gift from a friend. She held it out to the jedi knight. “I am afraid it is far too late for me, I have not known another path since I was a child.” She opened her mind to the other woman, as the blood in her mouth turned black from necrosis. “I have been cursed by the force, a generational curse. And I am forced to live a vampiric existence, bounding from corpse to corpse.” She laughed, as the whites of her eyes became a stark red of broken blood vessels. “I am sorry I cannot be what you want me to be.” Her eyes became almost sightless. Staring into the other woman’s eyes. Beautiful eyes. Pure eyes. “Perhaps one day He will free me of this curse. But the Spider has disappeared and I cannot follow him.” Her tan skin became pale, the veins in her forehead standing out blue against freckled skin. A last glimpse of what she had once been, so many years ago. Before damnation.